


Consumation and Consequence

by PheadreofWynter



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Bondage, Consumation, Dom Fenris (Dragon Age), F/M, Fenris Has Issues, Fenris Porn Week, Finally, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, NSFW, Shameless Smut, Smut, red ribbions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-13 00:17:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10502478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PheadreofWynter/pseuds/PheadreofWynter
Summary: Fenris and Hawke finally get it on after three years of pursuit**Please note this is shameless smut.  I will not apologize.  Everyone deserves a little. :)**Bioware owns everything, I just play with the action figures.*update 4/11 to fix spelling and grammer issues





	

It had been a week since he had killed Hadriana. A week since she had said she desired him. A week since in his instinct he had tried to kill her and she had responded not with anger, but with a kiss. His fingertips went to his lips as he thought, tracing them as if he could still feel the imprint of hers. He wandered through the rooms of his house, thinking. She had come to see him three nights ago after a particularly long slog through the stormy weather of the Wounded Coast. She had sensed something in his manner perhaps. He did not know why she could read him so well when no one else could. He had been drinking. It had been the anniversary of his escape from Denarius and in the fey mood that gripped him he had told her the story. That was unbelievable. He had never spoken of it before with anyone.

They had sat in the firelight at his table and drank the dark red wine Denarius loved straight from the bottle. He had felt the gaze of her large gray eyes and he asked if she wanted to hear the story of his escape. She had. He had told her she was beautiful then, in his own way. She had been stunning in the firelight; hair pulled back in a long braid and face shadowed with fatigue. He had felt he owed her something for her kindness after he had killed Hadriana, and had been lulled by the sweet scent of her soap in the air. It rapidly devolved into a confession, baring vulnerabilities he hadn’t realized were there when he waited for her anger at his murder of the fog warriors that saved him. Her silence had petrified him, and then enraged him because he thought perhaps it was pity that stayed her anger.

When he dared to look up though her face was peaceful and devoid of pity. She had asked him why, but with no accusation in her tone. Not even curiosity really. It was like she saw this was a festering wound in him and wielded her question with the detached compassion of a surgeon lancing a pocket of infection. The rest had come spilling out then. A rush of words that left him feeling curiously light after they were gone. He had felt so warm towards her after, so connected. He wanted it to go on, clung to the idea of that closeness with all his heart. He did not speak of the kiss, but instead told her that he had not been close with anyone since his markings were created and hoped she would understand what he was trying to say.

She had regarded him for awhile, a slight frown between her brows, and bit her lower lip. These small signs were a loud indication that something was troubling her. Hawke was reserved enough to make him seem expressive, save for matters of humor. At first he thought it was something to do with his announcement. He had felt shame start to creep its way through the fog of wine into his cheeks. She had blown out a breath and said with great precision that she was not a coward. He was confused. She had turned then and grabbed something from the floor next to her. It was a cunningly wrought little wooden box, carved with ivy and inlaid with green stones. She had slid it across the table to him, very carefully not looking at his face. He had taken it, looking it over with care. Hawke liked to give people things. 

She gave all her companions gifts, as often as once a week. It had taken a long time for him to become accustomed to it, to learn to accept them with grace. He had resented it as coddling or pity for a year, until Varric had taken him aside. She liked to do it, Varric had said, it made her happy. Would it kill him to let her be happy? The dwarf had asked. It had been hard to see through anyone else’s eyes back then, and still was if he was honest with himself, but he had stopped objecting to the presents. It was a small enough service to preform for her considering all she had done for him. Normally she watched his face when he opened things to see his reaction. This time she was staring at her hands folded in front of her. 

Inside the box had been strips of red fabric, like satin sashes for robes but far too long. He had reached in and picked up a handful, letting them slip out of his hand as he lifted his gauntlet. They had shone in the firelight, silky rivers of deep red. He had looked at her with incomprehension. Her cheeks had burned with a deep pink and his confusion deepened. They were for her, she told his raised eyebrow. He still did not understand. She sighed and confessed she knew he did not like to be touched, but that she desired him. That she had interest in being with him physically but did not trust herself not to touch him if they ever tried. So she had had these made. If he ever decided that he wanted her, he could use these to bind her, to prevent her from forgetting herself. She had smiled at him then, and fled the mansion before his paralysis had lifted.

Three days later and the box was still open on his table. His hands had run through the ribbons so many times that they were spilling out in coils. He would sit and stare at them for hours. At first it had been just shock. The confirmation of her interest, which was something impossible to begin with. Why would Hawke, a titled woman of the Free Marches, and the most deadly creature he had ever met, even look twice at him. He was a scarred, bad tempered, escaped slave, not to mention an elf, just to add to insult to injury. Also, he couldn’t possibly be interested in her, not like that. She was his leader, and maybe even his friend, but Fenris did not believe in more than that. He had never taken a lover, never thought he would desire that kind of intimacy with anyone. Then he would remember her lips on his.

Eventually the shock had worn away, and he realized there were other thoughts, deeper ones lurking behind his surprise. He saw her delicate wrists wrapped around with red ribbons, pulled tight and tied above her. Her dark curls fanned out beneath the pale Fereldan skin of her arms. Hawke, wild, deadly, untouchable Hawke, bound and naked on the red sheets of her bed. Part of him shied from the image. She was his leader, she was as unstoppable as a natural disaster in motion and just as bad for your health. But a darker something underneath his skin stirred at the thought of those satin ribbons around her limbs. It stretched, sending heat through him that stole his breath when he forgot to guard against it. Three days. Three nights. The ribbons sat there bright as blood and occupied the whole of his attention. He thought soon he might go mad. Venhedis!

 

She would go see him tomorrow. There was a job waiting and she couldn’t put it off much longer without feeling guilty, but she couldn’t go off fighting without a sword at her back. Aveline was busy for the next two weeks with some new guard training regimen so it would have to be him. She kicked herself mentally for the thousandth time. Giving him the ties had been a mistake. He would feel awkward in her presence now, knowing how she felt about him. He had kissed her back the other day out of surprise, out of instinct, and she had taken it the wrong way. Now she may have well destroyed the friendship she had so carefully built with him for three long years. She was angry with herself, and if there was a part of her that was hurt over this then so much the better. It would only help drive the lesson home. Her thoughts held her hostage as she stood on the balcony and stared up at the stars. She did not hear him come in.

“Hawke.” She spun at the sound of his voice, heart leaping to a suicidal pace.

“F- Fenris,” she stammered, one hand going to her chest. He closed the distance between them in moments, until he was so close she could feel his breath. He lowered his head and looked at her through his lashes, his hair obscuring his eyes further. Her heart redoubled its frantic pace at the hunger in them.

“I have been thinking of you,” his voice was almost a croon. The voice of a hunter closing in on its prey. “In fact I have been able to think of little else.” His eyes glittered with avarice, she was mesmerized. “Command me to go, and I shall.” His last words were soft; she could barely hear them over the beat of her pulse in her ears. He waited, body tight with tension, with panic and desire and emotions he had no name for.

“Please stay,” she whispered, her own voice failing her. She was giddy with the insanity of what was happening, what her mind had told her would never, ever be.

He growled and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her against his body and claiming her mouth. He was rough, fingers bruising, but she did not resist. She did nothing but tilt her head and part her lips with invitation. His tongue touched hers, and she thought maybe she would faint, as all the blood in her body rushed away to pool between her legs. She had wanted him for so long. He ended the kiss and pulled her inside, shutting the door to the night as they went. 

“There is a latch, so no one will disturb us,” she told him, and motioned to the hall door. He was gone and back in a second. When he had let go of her hand she saw the box she had given him was on a table, and her knees became weak. She had never thought the idea of being tied up would be pleasurable. Had only thought it would make him more comfortable. But after the little ribbons had been made she found herself imagining what it would be like to be at his mercy, and had liked the idea a great deal.

He kissed her again, mouth hungry on hers. She only noticed he was not wearing his gauntlets when he began to push her robe off her shoulders. He pulled back a little, watching her face to see if his actions were permitted. Trying not to give herself enough time to think, and therefore become self conscious, she smiled at him. She lifted her arms a little and shrugged the garment to the floor. She had only a sleeveless shift beneath it, and her legs were bare to the thigh. She heard him suck in his breath at the sight of her, and that gave her courage. Crossing her arms over she grabbed the bottom of the shift and pulled it off in one smooth motion. Hawke believed in comfortable undergarments over stylish ones, which made getting dressed, or undressed, a quick process for her. Eyes averted she stood before him naked, cheeks flushed with desire and stress.

He looked at her, caught by her beauty, by his desire, by the enchanting way she was looking down as if she was shy. Hawke, shy. The wonder of that idea bloomed in his mind. That she was shy because of him turned the wonder into a wave of something hotter and more primal. She clasped her hands behind her back, causing her chest to raise. He stepped closer and kissed her jaw, her cheek, her temple. He told her she was beautiful with every kiss, and kept going until she relaxed against him. He felt her recoil slightly and realized her bare skin had touched one of the spikes on his armor. He stepped back, apologetic. He reached for the clasps at his shoulder.

“Wait,” she murmured. He stilled, thinking she had changed her mind. She caught the flash of emotion in his face and shook her head, “No, no believe me I am not changing my mind. I just…” her cheeks flushed brighter, “I don’t trust myself Fenris.”

He regarded her, wary. “I am stronger than you Hawke,” he said, unsure of how to put her fears, or his own to rest. “I can stop you if it becomes needed.” His mind saw unfurling strips of red satin but he would not ask her, would not bring it up. The idea of binding her was still as unsettling as it was exciting.

“I could not bear the shame if I upset you,” her voice was so earnest, her eyes with a sheen of wet. I love you, her mind whispered, but the words never even got close to her tongue. “If you are serious about, well, trying this, I must ask that you use the gift I gave you.” Her face was grave, and he felt a little ashamed of the way his cock twitched at her words. 

“Only if it is what you want,” he murmured, still uneasy even as his body reacted to the idea of her tied up on the sheets.

“Please Fenris,” she brought up one hand and traced his cheekbone, a touch so light he might have imagined it. He turned and went for the box. When he faced her again she was on the bed. She had pulled down the coverlet so she sat on the red expanse of sheet in the middle of the four poster. Her legs were drawn up in front of her and her arms were around her knees. He brought the box to the bed and sat down, still in his armor. They looked at each other for a long minute, and then she ducked her head so her hair fell across part of her face, and offered a shy smile. She extended her forearms towards him.

Just touching the ribbons made his cock pulse again. He drew one out and began to wrap her wrist, making sure if she pulled at the binding it would not cut into her or prevent blood flow. His mind grasped desperately at the technical aspects of what he was doing to keep himself under control. His blood was pounding in his ears by the time he had looped the ribbon through a carving in the headboard and secured the other wrist. She lay with her curling froth of hair spread over the pillows, head tipped forward a little to see him better. Her pale skin was marked by the silvery remains of battle wounds. His eyes travelled over her, from her wrists to her toes and back again, making a mental inventory as he pulled out two more ribbons. With one he bound her around the thigh at the hip, then connected this to her ankle and then the bed. That forced her leg into a bent position. He did the same with the other leg.

She would have been embarrassed, perhaps even frightened, under other circumstances. But Hawke could see the effect she was having on him. She watched as his eyes went dark and feral. Saw his pupils dilate until they seemed more black than green. She could hear his breathing, see his pulse against the golden skin on his neck. He wanted her. He wanted her badly. It was more than enough to allow her to be comfortable as he tied her down. He ran a hand from her ankle up her leg to the top of her thigh, and she shivered with excitement.

“May I see you now?” she asked him. He stood up, his eyes still on her, burning the sight into his memory with all his might. 

“One thing,” he said, and her eyes fluttered closed at the desire thickening his voice.

“If you want to stop, at any point, promise me now you’ll say so.” 

“I will,” she answered with gravity. She had an inkling of the special kind of hell it would be for him to believe he had done something to her against her will. She would never put him in a position to feel that way.

He began to remove his armor. He did not look at the fastenings. Did not look away from her face. He was terror stricken at the idea she would find his markings repulsive. A blatant reminder of the fact that she had invited an ex slave to her bed. But he did not hesitate either. She had trusted him with her nakedness, trusted him to tie her down. He would not run now that it was his turn to take a chance. So he watched her eyes, her mouth, and was not disappointed by what he saw.

Oh Maker, she thought, for he was every bit as beautiful as she had imagined. His shoulders were wide for an elf, though much smaller than a human would be who was muscled like him. Every inch of him was corded muscle covered by golden olive skin and swirled with white lyrium lines. She followed the swirls with her eyes from one hand, up his arm to his shoulder, down onto his chest. The lines kept going across his abdomen and disappeared into the leather breeches low on his hips. When her eyes reached the leather, and the arousal that showed there, she let out a soft whimper and shifted unconsciously, pulling at the bands around her arms.

He heard the whimper and felt a surge of lust in his chest, and lower. He hooked his thumbs into his unlaced breeches and peeled them down. He did not wait for her to look but climbed back on the bed as soon as they were off. He leaned over and kissed her hard. His hands traced everything they could reached with his mouth still firmly glued to hers. He couldn’t get enough of the sweetness of her mouth, the velvet rasp of her tongue against his. His fingers, rough with sword callouses seemed so out of place on the soft perfect skin of her breasts. His palm scraped against her erect nipples and a shudder ran down her whole body. It had been so long since someone had touched her like this. There had been opportunity since arriving in Kirkwall, sure, but at first there had been no time. Later on she found that no one interested her save this one man, who she had thought would never take her up on it.

Her thoughts were interrupted as her broke the kiss and slid downward. He captured one of her nipples in his mouth and sucked hard, drawing with a steady pressure that made pleasure burst behind her eyes. Fenris felt her arch as he flicked the delicate nub of her nipple with his tongue as he sucked, and something like vertigo assailed him. His skin felt like it was on fire everywhere and his cock was pulsating with a fierce ache. He wasn’t going to be able to make this last, it had been too long building. 

“Please,” she moaned, pulling at the bonds as she writhed. “Oh Maker please, I can’t wait anymore Fenris!” Her desire-husky voice calling his name was too much. He let out a soft grunt of need as he swung over and atop her, his hips settling between her open legs. The head of his cock touched the sweet wet warmth of her center and he gritted his teeth against the need to plunge into her until his hips crashed against hers. She made a needy little sound and moved her hips, as if trying to draw him in, and he nearly lost control of himself, but no, he wanted one more thing.

“Again Hawke,” he growled through the haze of desire that was turning his vision black.

“What?” she asked, frantic, helpless, aching.

“My name, say it again.”

“Fenris,” she complied instantly, and he drove home within her. They both cried out at the shock of it, at the need so long ignored or held back finally let loose.

“Again! Tell me you want me, you want this, again Hawke,” he instructed, setting a brutal pace as he pistoned the thick length of his cock in and out of her. 

“Please! Oh Maker yes, Fenris I need you, I want you, please Fenris,” the litany matched his movement, stroke for stroke. With every hard drive his muscles tensed as the climax built within him, he would not be able to maintain the pace and not give in but he was unable to stop himself. Hawke arched farther and farther, her back almost creaking with the strain of the pleasure that was pooling in her lower belly. She thought she might have to scream and push him away soon if something didn’t happen to make it stop. 

He slammed home again and realized he was close, oh so close and there was one thing he needed even more then the climax that was trying to blast him to atoms. With a sweeping motion he ignited his lyrium markings and used his phase shifted hand to slice through the bindings on her arms, pulling her backward and down the bed. In one last effortless motion he lifted her til she was straddling his kneeling form, pinioned on the turgid length of his cock within her. Her eyes had flung open at the movement and freedom, and now she grasped his shoulders, staring down into his eyes from above.

“Ride,” he ordered her gruffly, and she began moving without even realizing it, responding to the need clawing at them both. She moved, and his length slid out of her before she impaled herself again, and again, and again. His arms came around her waist and grabbed her ass, helping to force her to a faster, harder pace as he reached the edge.

“Fenris I’m….” but she lost the ability to speak as the climax hit her. Her arms clamped onto one shoulder and the other around the back of his neck as the world she saw broke apart like a mirror dropped from a cliff. He felt her arms around him, and the powerful squeeze of her climax milking his cock that sent him beyond endurance. He cried out as he surrendered to the black tide.

Eventually they came back to themselves, still connected at the center and trembling in each others arms. Fenris kissed her and undid the bindings on her legs, then they both slid to place their heads on the pillows. It was not long before Hawke was fast asleep, her forehead pressed to his chest and one arm flung over his hip as they lay facing one another. Fenris, his mind too fractured to think, followed her down into oblivion.

He woke, holding back a scream not long after, as the last of the memories slipped out of his half-dreaming grasp, tears wet on his face. In his hand he gripped one of the red ribbons.


End file.
